Chapter 10: Gimme a Break

A/N: New chapter, hooray! Thanks for your patience, those of you sticking with this story. Extra shoutout to FirstFandomFangirl: thanks so much for last chapter's review!

(Any Shadow of Ronin lines of course aren't mine.)

Crisp, cool night air swept past the figure sitting outside the monastery. Stray panels of moonlight gleamed where they fell on his metal arms, and when he raised his hands in front of his face, they reflected the blue glow of his eyes.

His robotic eyes.

"You're not a robot," Wu told Zane firmly. "You're a nindroid. And a vital part of this team." Nindroid sounded better than "robot," at least.

All this time, and he never knew what he was. How had that happened? How had he become titanium? Who had made him? Why? And why keep him ignorant? My whole life has been a lie…

Hopefully he would regain his memories and his questions would resolve themselves. He had asked Wu how such a thing was possible. "The stranger used the Obsidian Glaive—an ancient artifact which affects all living things. And in your heart, Zane, you are a living thing."

At least the other ninja hadn't rejected him. After his initial shock, Jay was excited by all the "cool features" Zane had and offered to hook him into the monastery's main computer. Surprisingly, Kai's sister Nya agreed, explaining that she knew a lot about electronics and Zane's configuration and it might help him adjust. He politely declined. The notion of wires in his chest—chest panel—unsettled him, especially combined with Jay's enthusiasm.

Now, though, unable to sleep, it didn't seem quite as startling as before. Not that he had any wish to change his mind.

"In your heart, you are a living thing…" Zane took a deep breath, exhaled. A living thing. Accepted by his fellow ninja. As Jay noted, he could now help the team in ways none of the others could. All of them would regain their memories, apprehend the man who'd attacked them…

Did he even have a heart?

Inhale. Close your eyes. Relax your body, slowly. Exhale. Again.

Early in their training, Sensei Wu had emphasized the importance of keeping a calm mind. Jay particularly disliked meditation, but Zane found it calming. He hadn't realized it at the time, but he'd often meditated before Wu recruited him.

Exhale evenly, measured. Inhale deeply. Remember your training.

Wu saw something in him, to find him and offer the chance to become a ninja. Whatever they had faced in his lost memories, he had stayed with the others, and they the same.

Inhale.

Exhale.

There had to be mental controls for his abilities. Maybe he could determine a few.

Inhale. Exhale. And focus—

His left arm twitched.

Zane's eyes snapped open. He hadn't moved that arm.

Abruptly, his vision spun, electronic readouts dancing across it. His limbs flexed, bent. His mouth moved, announcing "system test" in his voice.

What is happening?

Whatever controlled him stopped. His limbs flopped down.

Hello? came a soft, measured female voice.

"Hello?"

Oh my—I cannot believe—I am terribly sorry. Who are you? A translucent, blue woman appeared in his vision: silver hair in a ponytail, one-sleeved kimono, and tattoos on her face. No, circuits. She was an android?

Yes, I am an android. I am PIXAL, a Primary Interactive X-ternal Assistant Life-form for Cyrus Borg.

"I don't understand. Why are you in my head? How did you get there?"

I… I do not know. She looked around. I have no record of how I ended up in your processor. I do not even know who you are.

"My name is Zane."

ZANE? What does ZANE stand for?

"Pardon?"

ZANE… It is an acronym?

"No, I…it's just my name. It doesn't stand for anything. That I'm aware of, that is." Who knew, really?

Strange. You are an android, like me. Although… She hesitated, a small frown appearing. It is hard to determine. Perhaps I am just a… a program.

"But I would remember you. Or at least what I am."

I cannot say. Memory, neural chips, stored data—they are all manipulable.

"My memories are partially erased. What if yours are too?"

A quiet moment. It remains impossible to tell, but that is a possibility.

"Wait, I do know how we may be able to tell. Not all my friends lost their memory. They may know what happened to you."

You do not have to do that for me, but… Thank you, Zane. Her expression relaxed. And was that a note of relief in her voice?

"Of course. We'll figure out this mess together."

Well, I am living in your head, after all.

Zane laughed. I think we're going to get along quite well.

PIXAL smiled. Get some sleep, Zane. And, after a few minutes, he did.

The jingling bell of the door opening caught Mystake off guard, her brush slipping and smudging her inventory entry. She let out a huff of annoyance, looking at the newest customer. Her eyebrows raised slightly: Lloyd Garmadon, the green ninja. Ninjago's hero.

"Hi there!" he greeted cheerily.

Such boyish enthusiasm, but what did she expect? At least he sounded polite, no doubt thanks to his uncle's training. It was why he had come here that bothered her. "What're you looking for?" she asked.

"I'm looking for, um, Spiritseeker Tea?"

She studied him closely. He was young, chipper, naïve. Nothing about his demeanor, from the inquisitive expression to the relaxed pose, gave her second thoughts. But asking for that tea, so soon after that snake asked about it the other day… While the snake had finished his business by the time Lloyd walked in, Lloyd had greeted him like an old friend.

Mystake pursed her lips. "You can't bring back what's been lost. It's best for all you learn that soon."

Lloyd's expression shifted to confused, then wary. Good. "Do you have any left?" he asked.

She sought his gaze this time. "Do you have any idea what you're getting yourself into? This tea brings nothing but heartache and sorrow, and some would say that you've had more than your share already and shouldn't invite more."

"I…" The boy looked down. Then, "Yeah, I know what I'm getting into," and he met her eyes again.

Hmm. Confidence seemed promising, but the company he kept these days made her wonder how much he really knew.

Mystake sighed. Every time Wu had come here for her rarer tea blends, she may have questioned his methods, but never his motives. The nephew, on the other hand… well, he was Garmadon's son, after all. She'd known Garmadon, seen him sink into those dark, dark depths. The Devourer's venom may have caused it, but all paths began with a step.

Where are you headed, Lloyd Garmadon?

"Very well," she decided. She started to assemble the ingredients, then caught sight of Martin peeping his head around the corner of the doorway to the storerooms.

"Can I help, Gramma?"

Poor child, parents killed by Serpentine in the war. Her kind son and daughter-in-law murdered by worms. And then that snake had the audacity to talk to her grandson…

"Start inventorying the berries," she told him. "You remember what I taught you?"

His eyes widened in surprise behind his glasses, and he nodded quickly before darting back. He wanted to help more around the shop lately, but she hesitated to let him—she had her way of working and hated it done wrong. But…Martin was a good kid, and his father had turned out decent, so she must be doing something right.

She turned back to Lloyd with a sigh, that accursed tea packaged neatly. "All right, here you go."

Lloyd laid some gold coins on the counter. Well, at least that snake had taught him something useful: she appreciated when customers already knew the value of their purchases. All the same…

"Thank you," Lloyd said, stepping toward the door.

"Don't thank me yet." As the door jangled closed, she retreated to the back rooms with a frown. She had a phone call to make.

Where are you headed, Lloyd Garmadon?

Hibiki had awoken well before the shrill screech of the prison's siren reached his ears. He'd spent enough years playing dangerous games to trust his instincts, and they woke him before the alarm, before the pounding of Vincent's boots in the hall outside, before anything had seemed out of place. He'd woken alert and certain that another turn of bad luck had come—from that ungrateful Ronin, no doubt.

Sometimes he hated being right.

"Hibiki, they've come for you. You best get out while you can."

"Ronin?"

"His men, at least. Heard 'em mutter his name and now they've started questioning folk downstairs."

"Idiots, the lot of them. Ronin's crafty enough to hack the police database and find my cell. What's he playing at?"

Vincent shook his head. "Dunno. I haven't seen him, but it's time you got outta here."

"Oh, I know. Been waiting for this place to get attacked since I arrived…"

Now Vincent was hopefully using the chaos to slip out of Kryptarium Prison while Hibiki attempted to follow suit. And chaos was indeed the word, with prisoners, security guards, and Ronin's goons running about willy-nilly amid the wailing sirens.

"'Ey! There's Hibiki! Get him!"

Hibiki groaned as he dodged through the crowded hallway with practiced ease. He'd hoped to get closer to the exit before they spotted him. But no matter, he— Curses, there were more blocking the hallway ahead!

He slid into a side corridor, eyes darting between metal bars and concrete. Whatever Ronin wanted, Hibiki knew he wouldn't like it. Hadn't Ronin already proven his point by stealing the Obsidian Glaive—and conveniently setting Hibiki up for arrest? That poisonous little backstabber.

All those years spent negotiating contracts and walking careful lines between the many people in Ninjago who had use for a thief—he refused to pledge his loyalty to any one person and made that clear to his many employers, just as he made it clear he was a thief, not anyone's spy. It was a good arrangement. Even though Hibiki had to tread delicately in his dealings, paying attention to the politics between rival individuals and factions, his employers had respected his position. More importantly, they never targeted him.

Until Ronin, that is.

He scampered up flights of stairs, opening the door at the top with the key he'd palmed from a prison guard on the way. Ahead of him, machinery glowed benignly and the catwalks overlooking the prison beckoned. Guards occasionally patrolled these catwalks, but at least for now, the area looked deserted. Closing the door behind him, Hibiki edged forward and peered over the railing.

Motion and movement everywhere, along with the odd fight. He watched the ebb and flow of bodies and soon spotted an exit route without too many of Ronin's men.

And the quickest way there…went directly down.

Large, lantern-like lights dangled from the catwalk in the prison's center, illuminating each level. Out of reach from the other stories, they formed a perfect chain of handholds for a descent to the floor.

Hibiki cast a glance at the door to the stairs, breathed deeply, and slid over the catwalk's railing. He dropped onto the first lantern's top and shimmied down, keeping a tight grip on the fixture. Not for the first time, he appreciated the skills his line of work honed.

A few years back, the crime boss Sirk had hired Hibiki for a complex job. As Hibiki began his preparations at Sirk's base, a young man with some clear talent for larceny caught his attention. So he'd taken the lad under his wing a bit, gave him several tips, even suggested he help with the heist.

That lad was Ronin, and that move was a mistake.

The heist went well, Ronin earned a reputation for himself, and Hibiki parted ways with Sirk on good terms. Yet later, Ronin betrayed Sirk to join the mysterious Kage Brotherhood, the crime lord's bitter enemy. When Sirk took over the Kage and partially blinded Ronin—not that surprising, really, considering Ronin had left such loose ends—that should have been the end of that.

Hibiki scowled as he reached the last lantern. Even after all this time, Ronin's decision to steal the Glaive and frame him stung. Hibiki'd always prided himself on avoiding fights between factions. It wasn't like he had betrayed his employer and foolishly waltzed off! It wasn't like he was one of Sirk's agents!

Speaking of foolish decisions—he should have paid more attention to his surroundings. A couple of Ronin's thugs had sighted him, and now they gathered below the massive lantern. Any minute, more would surely join them.

"Hey, you look lost, rat!"

"What'choo doing up there?"

"Yeah, scurry on down!"

Hibiki glared at them. "Why would I?"

"Come on, Hibiki! The boss just wants to talk!"

"Ha! Wants to suck my memories out, more like! Or worse—stick some of his lies into my head!" He knew full well what that Obsidian Glaive was capable of.

"Do something!" one of the men ordered the others. "Get him down!"

"Hey, whaddeya know? People are out to get him." Another speaker, further away. Hibiki spotted four people in strangely colored uniforms near the front entrance, faces obscured by masks. The one in blue gestured, likely the owner of the voice.

"More of Ronin's goons!" Hibiki spat. They must be the beginning of the reinforcements. "I knew it!"

"Ronin?" The black-clad one turned to the others. "That must be the guy who stole our—"

Several metallic thunks yanked Hibiki's attention away. Grappling hooks had caught on the lantern's side, tilting it. Hibiki tried to balance himself, but too late, the hirelings yanked sharply, and he was falling—

He let the fall become a roll and then he sprang up, dashing away from all his would-be captors before they released their ropes. "Just stay away from me!"

The nearest route away from Ronin's men lay in the hectic halls of the prison once more. He darted between bodies, leapt or slid under debris. Where to go? Where to hide? What was the plan?

"Hey! It's Hibiki!"

One of Ronin's hirelings blocked his path, hand reaching for Hibiki's wrist, but the thief had too much experience for such a direct ploy. He dodged, his own hand shooting out to grab his attacker. Next thing the man knew, he sprawled on the ground, winded, and Hibiki had vanished.

"We got your back, boss!" one of the prisoners called as Hibiki sped past. He spared a glance over his shoulder and caught sight of someone—he couldn't identify his ally—stepping forward to intercept the strange robed men from earlier. Well, better late help than never. More prisoners joined the first as Hibiki pressed on.

A fierce brawl blocked the way to the stairs. It mostly consisted of prisoners with their own scores to settle and several of Ronin's thugs, with a few hapless guards tossed in. No way was he getting in the thick of that! But with those strangers and Ronin's men on his tail, forward remained the best option.

Hibiki gave the scene another look before scrambling up the bars of the closest cell. He sidled across the last cells that way, past the fighting below. At the final cell, he leapt off and landed upright, agile as a cat. He slunk into the stairwell, closing the door behind him.

Navigating the second story of the prison's passed much the same as the first. Everywhere, swarms of people to dodge and avoid and, well, perhaps pocket that grappling gun from Ronin's thug as he sidestepped him.

Another of Ronin's men gave a shout. "There goes Hibiki! Get him!"

When did my face get so famous? Maybe those colorful, masked men had the right idea: he preferred his reputation to speak for him, not—

Thump! Hibiki slammed into a large, muscular man and staggered back.

"Well look here," the man sneered down at him. "If it ain't Hibiki himself. I didn't expect to see you around so soon."

Oh no. Not Harun. He'd cheated that man at cards some months back, only for a guard to reveal his trick. Harun had been gunning for him ever since.

Harun stepped forward. Hibiki moved back, ready to spring aside. But Harun had expected it, mirroring Hibiki's angle and shoving him. The thief's arms pinwheeled uselessly for balance as he fell.

Not good, not good! And even worse, a dagger flashed in Harun's hand. Hibiki made to roll aside, but a heavy boot landed on his chest. Not good at all.

"Not so fast, sneak."

"You're making a mistake!"

"You made the mistake when you conned me!"

"The whole prison's gone mad! You're gonna throw away your chance to get out of here?"

"Oh, I don't know about that. Way I see it, everyone's looking for you."

He'd noticed that? Well, that was inconvenient. Or…maybe not. "Are they? I suppose they'll be targeting you, too, then."

Harun laughed. "I'm about to do them a favor." He leaned over and grabbed Hibiki's shirt collar with his free hand.

Think, think, think!

"Drop him!" a voice sounded.

Hibiki sighed in relief. He twisted his head to see the newcomer. Never thought I'd be happy to see Ronin's lackey. Hmm. He recognized that gray hair, sharp face, and scarred left hand holding a katana: Shioru, one of Ronin's close associates.

"You can wait your turn," snapped Harun.

"Our boss needs him alive."

"Well, your boss ain't here, and this thieving bastard needs to learn a lesson."

"You heard of Ronin?"

"Like I said, he ain't here."

"Your mistake."

Shioru's katana darted between the dagger in Harun's hand and Hibiki's head. Hibiki squirmed to the side best he could as another of Ronin's men lunged at Harun, forcing the large man to move back. The second his boot lifted from Hibiki's chest, the thief rolled away, scrambling to avoid boots and weapons alike.

Harun swung at his attacker, fist smashing into the man's helmet. His other arm knocked the katana wide. Harun flipped Ronin's man to the ground and turned toward Shioru and the others, glaring.

Hibiki didn't care who won. He picked himself up and headed toward the corridor's end.

One of Ronin's idiot goons grabbed his shoulder. "'Ey, you're not leaving."

"Don't be so sure," Hibiki replied, twisting out of the hold.

Two quick steps away and suddenly Harun's fight filled his path. Flailing limbs and sharp blades and "Hibiki's getting away!" Harun's dagger, arcing wide toward one of Ronin's men, caught Hibiki in the upper arm. Hibiki leapt back with a hiss of pain as Harun turned toward him.

Shioru seized the moment to slam the hilt of his katana into Harun's face. The larger man staggered backward, and Hibiki dashed full tilt away from the scene.

Each step brought the railing of the main room that much closer. Hibiki readied the grappling gun and aimed for the lanterns.

"There he is!" a voice shouted.

Yes, yes he is, and kindly stop stating the obvious... The grapple soared across the center room's empty expanse, catching on the bottom lantern. Hibiki paused long enough to wedge the grapple's launcher into the railing's bars. Then an easy hop over the railing and gravity slid him down the rope.

The grapple rope left him dangling from the bottom of the lantern, and he dropped, rolled, and—son of a Serpentine, that gash on his arm hurt. He rose awkwardly, but his eyes were far nimbler, checking for threats and escape routes.

And there, sliding down the grapple he'd left, came those strange masked men.

Whoever they were, they were good. Assassins, perhaps? A shiver of fear pushed him back.

Although… what assassins wore such brightly colored uniforms? And hadn't they tried to talk with him earlier? Not assassins, then. He hoped.

His moment's hesitation cost him though: some of Ronin's thugs came running from the nearby corridors, spotted him and blocked his route to the exit. Just how many numbskulls had Ronin employed? What did they even want from him? Had they learned of the map? Or was it something else? He didn't intend to find out and braced himself to run again, ignoring the warm trickle of blood on his arm. Keep your mind sharper than their blades. "Get back! All of you!"

"We aren't with them!" called one of the odd men, drawing a scythe.

"We're just hear to talk!" added one in red.

"Well, we're here to fight!" one of the goons interrupted as the others slowly formed a semicircle between the strangers and Hibiki. "Capture Hibiki and destroy the ninjas!"

Ninjas? Well, this just got a lot more interesting, considering the only ninja he'd heard about were Ninjago's new heroes. And… wasn't there something about the ninja visiting Kryptarium a few weeks ago and some kind of Serpentine-led prison riot? Hmm, much more interesting indeed…

The ninja leapt forward. What they lacked in number, they easily made up with in skill. Including bright, colorful tornados that rendered those in their way unconscious.

Unsurprisingly, the fight did not last long.

Hibiki edged toward the ninja, glancing warily at the unconscious bodies that littered the floor around him. "So who are you? What do you want? Why are you here? How do you know Ronin? Why should I trust you? Where—"

"Whoa whoa whoa—would ya' let us answer?" The blue ninja pulled back his mask, revealing a young man with short auburn hair. So young! "Sorry, what was the first question again?"

"That Ronin guy wiped our memories."

The red ninja had a wild mess of dark brown spikes for hair. Hibiki wondered how much gel the lad used for his hood not to disrupt them. "Oh?"

"At least we've been told he did." The black ninja, the most practically clad of the bunch, stood in thought with one hand resting on his chin. "We don't actually remember. Which I suppose confirms he did. But then if it didn't happen, we wouldn't remember it either. So…"

Hibiki chuckled. "Yep, he got you alright. But he only took a couple of years from you, I'd say." Lucky for the ninja, and luckier for him. All those fighting skills took time to learn.

"That's right!" agreed the black ninja. "Or wrong—again, don't really know."

Hibiki decided he liked this fellow and his friends. Like, of course, did not mean trust, but he had no problem helping them against Ronin if he could.

"It could have been much worse," Hibiki told them. "He could have put memories into you. Made you believe his lies. Then you'd be his to control." He paused, catching wide-eyed looks on their faces, even the two still wearing masks. Still so naïve? It shouldn't surprise him, but some of their exploits suggested they had seen much of the world's darkness already. Well, he had warned them—no point making them even more uncomfortable. "So—I'd wager you want to know where the other Obsidian weapons are, hmm?"

"Yes, please," replied the robotic ninja.

"Sorry," Hibiki smirked, "can't tell ya!"

The red ninja bristled. "Hey, we just saved your butt!"

Not much of a one for levity, that lad. "Can't—not won't," he clarified. "But you can tell yourselves. You just need to drink the Tea of Insight."

"Impossible!" a new voice broke in. Hibiki startled as an old man with a tan conical hat and white beard joined the ninja. Where had he come from? "The Inky Lemonberry is extinct!"

"The whatty-what-what is what?" asked the blue ninja

"The Tea of Insight was made from a rare fruit called the Inky Lemonberry," the old man explained, "but it no longer grows in these lands."

"Ha! It does in one place," Hibiki interrupted. This old man looked like Master Wu—Hibiki had tried to steal from him once and left with a cup of tea and some interesting conversation instead. If he was here, all the more reason to help his students. "A clearing. In the Toxic Bogs. If Ronin stole your memories, then this map is probably what they wanted." He drew a small map from his pocket. "Keep it safe," he murmured as he handed it to the older man.

"Our thanks, Hibiki," Wu nodded before turning to the ninja. "Come, we have to get your memories back and stop this Ronin's plot…"

"It's true," the red ninja agreed. "He's evil, and evil people are always plotting."

"But what makes you say he's evil?" the robot asked as he left. "Yes, he attacked us and our home and our memories, but is there a defining line for such labels?"

Hibiki chuckled at their debate as he followed the ninja, but the promise of escape held his attention now. Escape, and the hope of fixing all the hard work Ronin had ruined for him.

Reports, diagrams, sketches, photographs, and preliminary analyses covered Misako's desk.

She studied a picture of an urn, covered with detailed images and inscriptions, occasionally referring to an ancient Serpentine alphabet chart as she jotted notes in a notebook. Her alphabet chart was unfortunately younger than these finds. Still, she noticed a few similarities between some of the letters. Hopefully she would find a few more in the days to come…

This project, a joint human-Serpentine excavation of the City of Ouroborus, filled her with excitement. The finds offered tantalizing glimpses into gaps in the historical record, into a culture since gone—and a culture still in existence. For the living Serpentine still carried stories of their past, and these cities held more than just artifacts to them. Ouroborus: the great city of the west, the gathering place of all the Tribes for pivotal events. Home of the first Snake Kings. An impressive feat of architecture, floating gardens, hidden aqueducts. If only the city hadn't been almost immediately damaged after its rediscovery by the Great Devourer.

Then came the excavation itself. Working among old friends and new, eager faces, with a few Serpentine of different tribes, tapping into their different strengths to help with the excavation work and their knowledge of the city and history to help decide where to dig and analyze what was found.

There had been initial resistance from some humans and Serpentine alike, but it soon became clear once the project started that the two groups made an excellent team. After all the help the Serpentine had given Ninjago of late, it heartened her to know bridges between Serpentine were being rebuilt.

And… it heartened her just to be in the field again.

Picking up the image of the urn once more, she studied the edges and their repeated patterns. With all the disturbances to the city, determining dates could be tricky, but if she could find any linkage between the piece and, say, a specific ruler…

"Professor Garmadon?"

She jumped in her chair. Even when working in the field, she still found it all too easy to lose herself in her research. And "Professor Garmadon"… Even after several years, she found the honorary title strange.

"Come in," she called, curious, to the tall silhouette of a person outside her tent.

The tan fabric parted as the figure stooped under the doorway. The sunlight made her squint, and she looked down to let her eyes adjust. Her visitor wore durable boots, black pants, and a teal button-up. Reddish-brown hair and—an eyepatch? Misako smiled in greeting at the young man as the tent flap fell back into place. No one she knew, but the main excavation team had invited several people to help them, especially promising young students. Or old hands like herself.

"You're Professor Garmadon, ma'am?"

"Please, call me Misako. And you are?"

"Eli, ma'am. My apologies. Dr. Saunders sent me, thought it might be a good experience." He fumbled in his satchel for a moment and handed a paper from a folder to her.

The Ninjago Museum of History had agreed to help sponsor the excavation since there wasn't a formal archaeology program at Ninjago City's college yet, so it didn't surprise her to see the museum's logo at the top of the sheet. The letter featured a terse recommendation for Eli as an assistant, which would have been unusual for anyone but Dr. Saunders—in her dealings with him, he'd made his opposition to technology clear and avoided using computers as much as he could. Even if it was for students he happily would sponsor.

"So tell me, Eli, how did you meet—" A strange flash of gold and black from the corner of her eyes distracted her, and she paused. Was there a purple-black fog? She couldn't tell: her head felt heavy, and she couldn't keep her eyes open …

The paper slipped from her fingers as her head hit the desk.

The Ninjago City Library, Morro decided, was useless.

Instead of anything on the Realm Crystal, he'd found ridiculous children's books on snakes and rabbits and do-it-yourself real estate guides. What was the point of a collection of knowledge if it didn't contain the knowledge he needed?

Morro had scoured the shelves, even checking the children's section for scraps of legends. Hours of searching over several nights—and nothing. The only item of note so far had been a poster for an upcoming museum exhibit, of all things. "Destiny," it seemed, had chosen the Green Ninja.

Lloyd Garmadon. Painted as the hero of the city and Ninjago with his other ninja friends by an exhibit that promised to relate their adventures with engaging "animatronics." What a joke.

With nothing else turning up, he'd spent the last two days possessing columns in the library so he could understand the last place to search.

The Internet.

How many sneezes, coughs, and whining children leaning against him he'd endured he shuddered to count. Now he sat in front of the glowing computer screen, slowly punching in every letter of the not-so-secret password. Seriously, why have a password if you tell it to anyone who walks up to the information desk? But it had worked out well for him, silently watching the librarians give guests instructions for using the computers.

The screen remained unresponsive after he put in the password, and he glared at it for several seconds before remembering to push the "enter" button.

Finally the screen changed to the main screen. Kitsune with a fiery tail image, kitsune with a fiery tail image—there. He pushed that thing they called a mouse around, watching the arrow move to the image, and then clicked. Another new screen appeared. Right. Now to get to work…

Morro rolled his eyes at the vertical line blinking innocently in the search box before turning his attention to the letters on the keyboard. Such inefficiency. He hated this thing almost as much as this "chosen" Green Ninja.

R-E-A-L-M C-R-Y-S-T-A-L. Enter. And finally—what the blazes was this? "Crystal Realm Glassblowing Studio." "Realm of Crystal Artisan Handcrafted Jewelry and Engraving." "Diamond Waters Lagoon—a realm of crystal at your fingertips." "Crystal Reality."

Wind danced across the desk, scattered some loose sheets of papers, as Morro contemplated destroying the entire computer room. What was this madness?

No books. No Internet. It was like they didn't want anyone to—

Morro stared at the screen a few moments longer, hands flexing and releasing fists instead of smashing the entire library with this infernal device before him. Of course. No wonder he couldn't find a single. Blasted. Thing. If this was a place of public information, why make knowledge of such a powerful artifact accessible? The best way to hide something, after all, would be to make sure no one even knew of its existence.

Just to be sure, he looked through the results a bit more—this took a moment of realizing that there was actually a little dial that turned on the mouse—but it was the same worthless junk. He groaned. So what did this mean now?

A thoughtful frown crossed his face as he leaned back in his chair. Any information out there on the Crystal would be hard to find, either hidden in less public locations or perhaps buried in other information.

S-I-X-T-E-E-N R-E-A-L-M-S.

"Crystal Realm Glass…style sixteen," "Plan for your sweet 16 party now," more useless ads, even more useless ads—wait. "Ninjago is one of sixteen realms…"

The article outlined that Ninjago was not the only country or continent in existence, that it actively traded with closer countries like Metalonia. No Realm Crystal, but this came closer than any information he'd found so far. Morro's gaze wandered the page, barely taking in the map of Ninjago, until he noticed a small picture at the bottom accompanied by text: "Part of the Library of Dormu Ninjago History Project."

At last. A lead.

A/N: I wrote Morro's Internet woes several months ago and am excited to finally share this with you guys! I feel like he and Krux have a lot in common...

Hibiki is a minor character from the Shadow of Ronin videogame (all they tell us is he used to own the Glaive and has the map the ninja needed). But he was fun to write, so we'll probably see him again at some point.

I'm currently imagining Serpentine writing as similar to Sanskrit, but their art as maybe more Aztec or Mayan style?

On a total side note, is anyone a fan of the videogame Paladins: Champions of the Realm? I've gotten hooked on the game and characters. I actually have a fic working to grab my attention and some oneshots in the works. Like I need any more projects, haha... Anyway, if anyone's curious, send a message my way! :)

Pythor, meanwhile, has pointed out that this is now TWO chapters he hasn't been in and is quite displeased. He'll return next chapter, but only because I say so. Hope you enjoyed, and see you next time!